Posted tagged ‘boring life’

“I live in a seedy section of town. Squirrels love it.

January 13, 2015

The night was a strange one. Gracie woke me up twice whining and crying. I just thought she wanted on the bed so I moved for her to jump up and then fell back to sleep. When she stood beside my bed the third time and was whining and crying again, it broke through the nighttime fog of my mind. What in the heck was she doing standing on the floor and why whining. I guessed she needed to go out so I went downstairs and let her out. The poor dog almost fell down the outside deck stairs as they were iced over. She disappeared for a while, and because of the ice and slipping, I went looking. She was on the deck eating plants. Gracie didn’t feel good. That’s what it was all about. I fed her some spider fronds but she was still restless. It was five o’clock, an ungodly time of the day unless it’s Christmas or they’re calling your flight. I fed her some more fronds. I turned on the news to keep me occupied while I watched her. By about nine she seemed fine, even ate the treats I had left for her. I didn’t hear her go upstairs, she can be sneaky, but I heard her coming downstairs. I knew she had eaten the cat food. All was well with Gracie. At 9:30, we both went back to bed and we both slept until noon.

I am going to get a weapon, an anti-spawn weapon. When I looked out the window just a bit ago, I saw two red spawns, one at each feeder. At first I just thought it was a trick of the eyes, the sort of reaction Scrooge had when he saw Marley in the door knocker. It wasn’t. I opened the window and screamed like a crazy woman. I must have looked and sounded like an extra from Network, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take this anymore.” The spawns didn’t care. Their pelts will be mine, metaphorically of course.

To think, I used to love to go to Boston Common and feed the grey spawns, but I was a kid then and what did I know. I thought the spawns were cute, and when they came close and took the peanuts, I was thrilled.

I suppose I can thank the spawns for adding a bit of excitement to my day. That last line is a bit scary but it gives you an idea of how boring my life has been of late.

“I’m sorry. This is diary, not enlightenment.”

April 28, 2014

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I woke up. There it was, the sun, shining through the bedroom window. The sky was even blue. I ran downstairs trailed by Gracie and Fern and opened the front door. The sun streamed through the glass and Fern got comfy on the rug in the heat of the sunlight. Gracie went into the yard, and I went onto the deck. There was a bit of a morning chill, but I didn’t care. We have sun, glorious sun.

One side of my den table is covered in sticky notes. A list of perennials for the garden fill one note. I chose flowers of varying heights because I particularly want some taller ones for the back. Another sticky has a small shopping list for today: bird seed, cat food and toilet paper. A third note is a reminder I need to go to CVS.  The last note has a list of authors I want to read and a few apps I want to download to my iPad. Sticky notes are my salvation.

When I was around twelve or thirteen, I got a diary as a Christmas present. The cover was pink vinyl and had a cartoonish teenage girl on the front talking on the phone. The diary came with a small gold key, but I really didn’t need to lock it. Little in there was ever something I wanted hidden. In my first few entries I mostly talked about school and drill (I was on a drill team) and what my friends and I were doing which wasn’t much. I did mention sneaking out of school at lunch time pretending I was going home to eat. I also admitted to my diary that I had lied. I arrived back to school late after lunch some days and told the nun I was with Father somebody or other. She always bought the lie.

I didn’t have enough teenage angst to fill my diary. I wrote about being angry with my mother or father, but that anger never lasted long. I wrote about what a jerk my brother was, but that was no revelation. Life for me was really pretty easy. I got tired of that diary after only a few months and stopped writing in it. I put it in my drawer and just left it there. It got covered with stuff, and I forgot all about it until we were moving to the Cape. I was clearing out my bureau where I found the diary and started reading. It was about the most boring thing I’d ever read.

%d bloggers like this: